The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1887-06-25
A Beautiful Psalm of Life.

1--WE don't have to worry ABOUT
girls. thank goodness" David At
wood said to his acquaintance when
they complained Of the kitchen de-
spot "my wife does her own work."
He was tipped back in an open
chair while he talked, and looked the
comfortable, prosperous business man
he was.
81 run my end of the work." he
continued. sand my wife runs hers,
so we get on all right"
Then he stepped over to see chum
in another Office, and chatted on pol
itics until dinner time, when he went
home,
1t only took him fifteen minutes
to eat dinner. then he had nap. His
little daughter had usually eaten and
gone to school when he came. She
knew her father by sight. This was
about all.
His wife was always busy making
home comfortable for him. 1t took
her the whole forenoon to cook din
ner for him, and she walked miles,
mechanical motion from the pantry
to the dining-room and back again.
Sometimes she sang as she work.
ed. She liked to hear human voice.
Pinned up near the clock was the
Psalm of Life, which she sometimes
stopped TO read while she waited
dinner for David. 1t sounded good.
Forenoon and afternoon and night
forenoon and afternoon and night
forenoon and-what?
The empty song repeats itself. No
more; yea! that is life; make this
forenoon sublime.
This afternoon a psalm, this night
aprayer.
And Time is conquered, and thy
crown is won.
David said he couldn't see any
sense in it, but his wife thought it
rested her in some way to read it.
That David Atwood was supremacy
selfish never occurred to Mrs. At
woods husband. His wife never
went anywhere, but she was free
agent-she could have gone, if she
had wanted to.
Wilkie Collins, in one of his minor
novels, has man who says to his
wife. in answer to her solicitations;
"You don't want to travel. You
won't lik it. l never do"
When she suggested sea voyage,
he said;
"You won't like the water, You'll
be seasick. l always am"
Mrs. Atwood was not a complain
ing woman. She would have liked
as much attention as a good cook
gets, but her excellent meals were
eaten and never discussed. Once her
husband said to his confidential
friend:
MY wife makes elegant coffee and
the best pies I ever ate anywhere,
but between you and me I'd rather
run around to Smack'S and take a
cup of boillon and sandwich, thar
to sit down to the best table ever
saw"
Such is the ingratitude of men and
republics.
atwood must be getting rich,"
Che neighbors said.
Fe was. Some day he intended
to move into a larger house, but as
things were running smoothly, he
invested his money safely and took
things easy.
He did not even notice that his
wife was getting old. He would have
laughed at the idea.
But one day a neighbor asked the
little girl it her mothers hair wasn't
getting white on top.
The child said she didn't know.
She wasn't tall enough to see, and
her mother never found time to sit
down.
The truth came to David Atwood
by strange revelation.
His wife had once complained of
needing some rest and recreation, and
he had suggested that she hire girl.
Now, the rest had come.
She, who never sat down, or ceased
the monotonous grind of life for a
moment. was lying here in the best
parlor among the pictures and books
she had busted every day, with no
thought of any household cares to
trouble her.
He could hear his little daughter
crying above stairs. If his own heart
had not been broken he could have
sorrowed for her who had lost her
best friend.
He was holding his wife's hand. 1t
was cold and unresponsiye. His hot
tears falling upon it awakened no
sensation. Oh, how much good it
xuould have done her NOR tired hpart